


Buttercups, for Ingratitude

by vulpineRaconteur



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Multi, Post-Canon, Trans Female Character, non-canon children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/vulpineRaconteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 9:37 Dragon, Marian Hawke gave birth to twins.  In 9:39, she left her family to help the Inquisition.  Now it's 9:42, and her wife and children have turned up in Skyhold looking for her, but she isn't there.  A story about families: found, made, chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttercups, for Ingratitude

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on tumblr from which this work takes its title: buttercups for ingratitude. I used it as an excuse to write I thing I'd been pondering for a long time. Note that this story takes it for granted that you know Merrill is a Big Trans, so I'll state for the record that Merrill is a Big Trans. Rating is for lots of f-bombs.

I. 9:42 Dragon

 

It was not too strange for people to come to Skyhold with children on their backs or in their arms.  The world had become a dangerous place, and the fortress one of the few places considered safe.  Some parents, with no work and nowhere to go, saw it as a place where they might make the life their children needed them to have.  So while the Dalish woman with two kids in hand was unusual, not many paid her too much mind.  It took Varric Tethras four whole hours to find out that Merrill had arrived.

He dropped his pen and hustled to the infirmary ("The Champion's elf friend, in the infirmary" Maker's breath, why the infirmary?) and there she was, worn out but beaming at him.  And there they were, the tots, Sybil and Rufus, Marian Hawke's other legacy.  He hadn't seen them in at least two years, and he couldn't believe the size of them. Sybil was sitting quietly next to her mother, fighting to stay awake.  Rufus had already lost that fight, and was curled up in Merrill's lap.  They appeared unhurt, but exhausted.  A medic was fussing around the whole little family.

"How old are the children?" the medic asked. Human.  Probably not sure she could guess an elf child’s age on sight. Merrill looked at her.

"Goodness," she said.  "They'll be five years soon enough."

"In two months," Sybil mumbled.  Hawke had been a couple months pregnant when everything in Kirkwall had gone to shit.  She'd given birth in the wilderness somewhere.  Anders was long gone by then, and Fenris...well.  But Aveline and Isabela and Merrill had been there with her, when it happened (Varric had wandered off, uncomfortable with the whole thing).  Shortly after that, Aveline had smuggled the whole little family, and herself, back into Kirkwall.  On the run was no way to raise children, the women had all agreed.  They went back to Merrill's old place in the Alienage, but Varric and Isabela--

"Isabela's here," he blurted out and Merrill's face lit up.

"Is she really?  Oh, that’s marvelous,” she said.  “Did you tell her I was coming?  Or did you leave it a surprise?"

"Daisy,  _I_  didn’t even know you were coming.”

“You didn’t?  I sent word,” Merrill said, then got distracted when Rufus stirred in her lap and spoke.

“Are we there, Mummy?”

“Yes, da'len,” she said, tucking a bit of his dark hair behind his ear.  “We’re at the big castle.”

“Is Other Mummy here, too?”

Varric saw Merrill's mouth twist at the corners. “Yes, da'len, you'll see Mummy Marian soon.”

“Daisy…” Varric said, “did you…not get my letter?”

 

II. 9:39 Dragon

 

After their secret return to Kirkwall, Marian spent every moment in Merrill's old home, to lay low, but also to care for the twins.  It was up to Merrill to scrounge the city for food and whatever else they needed, though of course she got herself roped into everyone else's troubles.  She'd swapped her radiant white armor for something less conspicuous.  It wouldn't do to lead someone to the Champion in hiding.

In the year or so since they'd moved back in, Merrill had gotten rather fond of the sight she always found upon coming home each night.  Marian would be sat on the rug in front of the hearth, playing with the children, Dalish trinkets having been repurposed as toys.  Then Marian would make some sort of meal out of what Merrill could bring her, and they'd have a nice dinner and sleep like stones.  Sure, the city was burning around them, but Merrill had a sort of family she had never really known.  It was nice, while it lasted.

One evening she came home and found no one in front of the hearth.  Marian stepped out of the bedroom when she heard the door.  She was dressed in her armor, a staff on her back.  Merrill felt all the blood drain from her face as she asked "Vhenan, what's going on?"

"I have to leave Kirkwall."  She said it with finality, but Merrill could hear the tremor behind the steel.  "Varric sent word.  There's some very important Chantry people looking for me, and they're coming here. I need to be as far away from the city as I can be when they get here."  Her hands were trembling.

Merrill dropped her bags and padded across the shabby wooden floor.  She took Marian's hands in her own, and Marian took a deep, shuddering breath. "Give me five minutes and I can be ready to go."

"Merrill," Marian said, "you can't come with me. It's—it's too dangerous for the children."

"No," Merrill said, squeezing Hawke's hands tighter. "You can't go.  We need you."

"You know that's not true,” Marian told her. She smiled, eyes soft looking at Merrill.  “You've been taking care of all of us for ages."

"You  _can't_ ," Merrill insisted, hating how petulant it was.  "I'm not letting them grow up without their mother."

"They have a wonderful mother," Hawke said, placing a gauntleted hand on Merrill's neck.

"They have  _two."_

They stood silently for a moment, knowing it would be the last they would have for a long time.

" _Ir abelas, ma vhenan,_ " Hawke murmured, letting her face fall to Merrill's forehead.  Merrill reached out her arms and pulled them together.

" _Ar lath ma, lethallan,_ " Merrill told her.

Then Marian sang " _Tel'enfenim, ma vhenan,_ " a line from a lullaby Merrill sang to the twins, with the endearment changed.  " _Irassal ma ghilas._ "  Never fear, my love, wherever you shall go.

Tears fell from Merrill's eyes.  She pulled Marian as close as she could, the edge of her chestplate digging into Merrill's face.  " _Ma garas mir renan—ara ma'athlan vhenas._ "  Follow my voice—I will call you home.

 

III. 9:42 Dragon

 

It was the middle of the night, and the tavern was mostly deserted.  They moved one of the smaller tables in front of the fireplace, and the five of them huddled around it, Merrill, Varric, the twins, and Isabela.

Isabela had apparently been up some kitchen girl’s skirt when the messenger found her, but she’d dropped everything to come to the Herald’s Rest and see Merrill.  Now they were looking at each other’s hands on each other’s cups of tea.  None of the adults said anything for a while.  Then Isabela spoke.

“They’re asleep, right?” she asked Merrill, pointing at Sybil and Rufus.  They were indeed sleeping, soundly, on the bench beside Merrill.  Sybil had her head in her mother’s lap, and Merrill was stroking her hair absentmindedly.

“Yes,” Merrill said.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Isabela whispered. “Dragging them all the way here? Two little children?!”

“Kirkwall isn’t safe,” Merrill said.  She wouldn’t meet Isabela’s eyes.  “It’s no place for children right now.  I’ve been helping other parents in Lowtown get out for the past year.  Marian sent word once she got here, and said she’d let me know when it was safe to join her. But…”  Varric watched as her eyes unfocused, staring into space above her daughter’s head.  “I couldn’t wait any longer.  I had to bring them here, to her.

“But she isn’t here after all.”  Her eyes snapped to Varric’s face, and he was startled by their sharpness.  She’d turned this look on him a few times in their acquaintance, and it never failed to unsettle him.  “She’s in…”

“The Anderfels," Varric said.

"With the Grey Wardens," Merrill finished. "At Weisshaupt."

"I'm sorry, Kitten," Isabela said, resting her hand on Merrill's.  Merrill turned her hand over to squeeze Isabela's.

"In that case," Merrill said slowly, "we'll rest here for a few days, maybe a week, then we're off to the Anderfels."

"You're joking, right?" Varric said.  He looked at Isabela, always more adept at reading Merrill.  "She's gotta be joking."  But there was steel and fear in Isabela's expression.

"You've already dragged them across the Waking Sea," she hissed.  Her hand was still in Merrill's.  "You're going to make them go all the way into that wasteland too?"

"Marian's there," she said, as though that settled the matter.  "And wherever Marian is, I'm going to be.  I'm done being apart from her."

"At least leave the kids here," Varric said. "If you have to be with Hawke...I can understand.  But let the kids settle in here.  We'll watch out for them.  Somebody around here will take care of them."

"Absolutely not," Merrill said.  The statement was dismissive, final.  "I'm their mother, and they're staying with me. We're a family, and we're going to be together, the lot of us."

"A fortress in the Anderfels is no place for children, Kitten."

"Where else, then?" Merrill asked, voice rising. "A fortress in Orlais is better? Or a hovel in a city under siege? There's nowhere in this world that's safe for them, but at least if they're with me, I'll be there to protect them. With my life, if I have to."

"Oh,  _right_ ," Isabela said, venom in her speech, "because they'll be so much better off with their mother dead."

Merrill was trembling, but she met Isabela's gaze. "Do you know how old I was the last time I saw my own mother, Isabela?"

Isabela's mouth pinched.  "You were four," she said quietly.

"Four years old the last time I saw my mother and father.  I can barely remember a thing about them."  Her voice turned light, her gaze distant.  "I don't know anything about who they are, what they're like. I don't know if they're kind or cruel. I don't even know if they're alive."

Tears welled in Merrill's eyes and she let her mouth turn down, let her face crack open.  "My children don't remember their mother, Isabela.  She's so good, and kind, and her jokes are awful and she can burp part of the Chant of Light, and they don't know  _any_  of that. One day they'll be old enough to know the difference between having both their parents around or not, and when they are, I'll be damned if I didn't do everything I could to put this family back together.  Even if it means growing up in a sad, scary place, at least they'll grow up with both of us."

They were all quiet.  Sybil shifted in her sleep and one of her legs fell off the bench. Merrill lifted the girl up into her lap and held her there.  Strictly speaking, she was too big for it, but she snuggled into Merrill's chest all the same.

"Well, Kitten," Isabela said, turning the words into a sigh.  "We'd better rest up, then."

"Isabela..." Merrill started.

"No, I won't hear a word of it."  She steadied her eyes on Merrill. "Because I won't have you dying, Merrill, so if you're going to give up your life for your family, I'm going to be there to give up mine for  _you_  first."

Varric sighed and put his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.  This was the worst conversation he'd heard in his life.  “Andraste’s ass, how'd I end up with friends this stupid?”

 

VI. 9:37 Dragon

 

Marian Hawke screamed into the gathering darkness. Low, guttural, frustrated. 

“You’ve been through worse, Hawke,” Aveline said calmly.

“Oh, what do you know?” Hawke spat. “You’ve never done this!”

“Well if she had,” Isabela said, “she’d have done it with less whining.”

"It's alright, vhenan," Merrill said. "As the First of my clan, I helped the Keeper deliver plenty of babies."

"Yes, darling, thank you," Marian said, "but I got the idea the first twelve times you told me."

Marian was pacing around the woods, as Merrill had instructed her.  She was barefoot, hands on the small of her back to support her bulbous stomach.  Her water had broken almost an hour ago, but Merrill judged it still wasn't time yet.  Everyone else found her Dalish birthing methods unorthodox, but since none of them had any experience of their own, they mostly kept their traps shut.

Merrill was walking in circles around Hawke, jabbering her way through the birth process over and over, interrupting herself to mention this or that horrible story Marethari had once told her.  After some time of this, Marian stopped her on the phrase “elbow-deep” by grabbing her shoulder and twisting her around.

“ _Merrill_.”  She took hold of her wife’s other shoulder and stared her down.  “We are about to become parents.  We are about to have two little babies who need us.  You’re the only one who can make sure they’re healthy and that I’m healthy, so we need to both stop losing our respective heads right now.”

Aveline shared a look with Varric.  There had always been something between those two that others found impenetrable, some understanding that had never needed to be spoken.  At least, not where their friends could hear them.

“Right,” Merrill said, taking Marian’s wrists. “Right.  Right.  Right.”

“Merrill,” Marian said.  “Merr—haaaaaaahhhhhn!”  Marian screamed as another contraction hit her, and Merrill was so startled she screamed too.

“Alright!” Isabela shouted.  She pulled her friends apart from each other and they both stared at her.  “You can both do this!  You’re two of the strongest people I know!  After Lady Ball-Buster, of course.”

Aveline sighed.  “Thank you, Isabela.”

“The important thing is, you  _can_  do this.”  They nodded, eyes wide.  “Merrill, what can we do?”

Merrill sent Aveline for water and firewood. After another mention of Hawke’s perineum, Varric volunteered to keep watch, very far away.  Merrill wanted to look for some herbs that might be useful, so she left Isabela to watch Marian.  They walked in circles through the camp, Isabela helping Marian slow her breathing.

“Thank you,” Hawke said.  She held Isabela’s gaze and smirked.  “Always knew you were worth keeping around.”

“You finally acknowledge it,” she said.  She was holding Hawke’s hands and walking backwards to lead her slowly through their circuit.

Hawke swallowed.  “I know you’re just joking.  I hope—We’ve always needed you, Isabela.”

Something burst in Isabela’s chest and warmth spread out through her body.  “I know, Hawke.  I—I know.”

Before long, it was time.  Merrill had Marian in a squatting position over a clean blanket, Aveline ready with clean rags.  Isabela held Hawke’s hand.  After eight grueling hours, with the sun just starting to filter through the trees, the first child was born.  Merrill bundled her up and handed her to Isabela, focused on the next birth.  So Isabela was the first person to cradle Hawke and Merrill’s firstborn in her arms, first to rock her to comfort.  In another hour, the second child was in the world.  Merrill took the first back from Isabela and handed her to Hawke, who was sprawled on the ground, exhausted.  The two of them propped against a tree with their children, and after hours of being the good midwife, Merrill finally started to sob.

“Look at them, vhenan.”

“I couldn’t stop looking at them if I tried.”

"She stopped screaming!" Varric shouted. "Why'd she stop screaming!"

"She's croaked!" Isabela yelled back at him. Marian laughed weakly.

"That's not funny, Rivaini!"

"She's fine, Varric!" Aveline shouted. “Hawke, have you noticed…” Aveline let the sentence trail off, uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Their ears….”

Merrill pushed back the blanket swaddling the child she was holding and found pointed elf ears. Marian looked at them.

“Huh.  That’s strange.”

“ _Hawke_ ,” Isabela said, “was your father an elf?”

“Suppose he must have been. Oh, look at their little noses! They look just like me.  Should I do little blood swipes on them?”

“Only if you want a slap,” Merrill said sweetly, not taking her eyes off her child.

Varric burst through the trees.  “They’re okay?  You’re all okay?”

“We’re perfect!” Hawke said. “Come look at them.”

He did, crouching slightly to get a good look.  He patted Marian roughly on the shoulder and sniffed.  “They’re gorgeous, Hawke.”

“I know, good one, me.”

“What are you going to call them?” Aveline asked.  “They’re both girls.”

Merrill scoffed.  “ _That’s_  awful presumptuous of you.”

“You know what I mean, Merrill.”

Marian held up a hand before Merrill could retort.  This was an old argument between these two, who both had more of a stake in the conversation than most.  “For the time being, let’s pick names assuming they’re girls, and if they don’t like that when they get old enough, we can change them.  What did we settle on, Merrill?”

Merrill looked at the child she was holding, their second-born.  “Dahlia.  And Sybil.”

“Right then,” Marian said. She pointed to the child Merrill was holding.  “That one’s Dahlia.  This one’s Sybil.”

Merrill’s bottom lip started to tremble.  “ _Dahlia and Sybil._   Our children, vhenan.”

Marian laughed wetly. “Our children.”

“We should all try to get some rest,” Aveline said.  “You two especially.”  She threw a blanket over the new Hawke family.

“I’ll take first watch,” Isabela said.  The rest agreed and everyone laid down in their respective bedrolls.  Before long, Isabela was the only one still awake.

She sat on the ground a short distance from the mothers and their babies, but she didn’t take her eyes from them.  Things had been hard since Kirkwall.  Marian did her best to cover for herself, but there were times when Isabela caught her staring into the distance in a sad, bad, familiar way.

Now, despite the pain and hard work she’d just been through, Marian Hawke was sleeping with a smile on her face.  Merrill was curled beside her.

Isabela realized then that she would do anything for this family.  She would never be inside it, but it felt like hers.  Nothing mattered more than them.  She spat on the ground.  They were as much hers as they would ever get.

 

V. 9:42 Dragon

 

They started out on the Imperial Highway.  The four of them went with an Inquisition caravan as far as Verchiel, then broke off to head north on their own.  They met a Dalish clan in the Heartlands, and traveled with them as far as Val Foret.  Then they got back on the highway, and took it to Ghislain, where the road veered west.  From there, they were taking smaller roads through the plains, stopping in modest towns every now and then.  But once they were through Perendale, they knew, it would be endless nothing until Weisshaupt.

They bought two horses and a small wagon. Rufus and Sybil spent the days running along beside the adults, then napping under cover in the wagon. Neither of the adults had much experience with horses, but they made do.  When they did encounter people, which was rare, the strangers were either kind, and felt sympathy for two women and two small children, or they were not, and Isabela and Merrill made short work of them.

The longest, hardest part of the journey was the weeks before their destination.  Day after day of nothing to their left but the scarred plains of the Anderfels and nothing to their right but the verdant and deadly Tevinter Imperium. There were a few dicey days where they traveled under darkness and kept vigilant watch during daylight.  A Rivaini woman and three elves were not safe there.

But as they crept closer to the fortress, as the land got hardier and bleaker, their encounters with strangers dropped to none.  They had stocked up on dry foods in preparation for this part, but they still struggled to keep their bellies full.  Merrill and Isabela went to sleep hungry a few times, to make sure the children ate.  At night, around the fire, Merrill would stare north, to where she knew Marian was. “Not long now.”  She said it each night, like clockwork.  Isabela was tired, hadn’t bathed in weeks, and she would stare at Merrill.  “Soon enough, Kitten,” she would say.

It was early on that Merrill had insisted on all of them sleeping in one tent.  Isabela assumed Merrill’s maternal instincts had extended to include her.  Better to have all three of her charges in one place.  But it became clear to Isabela that Merrill needed her for more than just backup in a fight.  The two of them would curl around Sybil and Rufus as they slept, everyone sharing warmth. Sometimes, Merrill would reach one arm across her children and take Isabela’s hand.  And that would be it: they would fall asleep hand in hand, and Isabela’s chest would be full of love and ache, and she would curse herself for doing something as foolish as falling for two people who had loved each other from the day they met.

 

VI. 9:35 Dragon

 

Isabela was bored. Sometimes when she was bored, she would take a look around the Hanged Man and find someone who would look good in her bed.  Sometimes she would go to the docks and admire whatever happened to be there.   _Then_  she would find someone who would look good in her bed (or at least up against a wall somewhere).  Sometimes, like today, she would go to Hightown and see about interrupting Hawke and Merrill’s marital bliss.

As she neared the manor door, Orana, Sandal and Hawke’s dog were hustling out of it.  She hailed them.  “This looks like a charming outing.  Taking the mabari for a walk?”

Orana glanced at the ground. “They’re shouting,” Sandal said. He had the dog by the collar.

Isabela frowned. “Who?  Hawke and Merrill?”

“Yes, mistress,” Orana said.

“Do they shout often?”

“No, not at all!” Orana told her.  The young woman was clearly upset.  “I know they argue sometimes, but never like this.”

Isabela stepped past them into the house.  Bodahn was on the other side of the door, about to turn her away, when he noticed who she was.  He relaxed visibly.

“Thank the Maker it’s you, Mistress Isabela.  They’ve been at it for half an hour.”

“What happened?”

“It seems to have started with a letter from Mistress Hawke’s brother.”

Isabela felt a knot in the pit of her stomach.  Marian and Carver had never gotten on, not even for a minute.  He resented being caught in her shadow, and she resented him for being such a baby about it.  When he had joined the Templars, who Marian despised above anyone else, it had been a breaking point in their already strained relationship.  It had been up to Bodahn to tell Carver when Leandra died. Carver had sent a letter in response, but as far as Isabela knew, Hawke had never opened it.

She went through the foyer into the central room, and she could hear shouting coming from the master bedroom.

“You went behind my back, Merrill!”

“He’s your  _brother_ , Marian.”

“You had no right—“

“No right!  No right to send a letter to my brother-in-law?!”

“Some brother-in-law! As if he wouldn’t break down that door and haul us both off if Meredith told him to!”

“What makes you so certain he would?”

“I don’t know why you’re so certain he wouldn’t!”

Isabela crept up the stairs. A sneak attack would be the best option here.  Catch them in the act, so they couldn’t pretend everything was fine.  She threw the door open and found them standing half dressed, startled faces turned toward her.  Isabela had a mental image of them, lying in a naked afterglow, when some sort of bomb got dropped on the moment.  She wiped it from her mind and cocked a smirk at them.

“Well, you two, trouble in bed?  You know you can always come to me for help.”

Hawke’s mouth twisted up, and she turned away to cinch her robe tighter.  One of her tits had been very much hanging out.  Merrill looked at Isabela and tried to force a smile.

“Hello, Isabela, um, how are you today?”

“Ready to hear some family drama,” she said, leaning against the wall.  “I hear there’s some on offer in here.”

Marian looked embarrassed. “It’s none of—“

“I think it is, though, Hawke.”  She wasn’t smiling now.  “What happened?”

“Merrill’s been secret pen pals with Carver,” Marian said, making her brother’s name with a hacking sound at the back of her throat.

“He just wants to talk to you, vhenan,” Merrill said softly.  She had her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well I don’t want to talk to him!  Did anyone consider that?”

“He misses you,” Merrill went on.  “He wants to talk about what happened to Le—“

“That is the absolute  _last_  thing I want to talk about.”

“He has a right to know about how his mother died.”

“Why don’t you tell him, then?” Marian spat.  “You were there, too.  You were there.”

“He wants to hear it from his—from someone as hurt by it as he is.”

“From—!  Fuck him!  Fuck her, too!  Fuck this whole—“  Marian kicked at her desk chair and sent it flying at the door.

Isabela caught it. “That is  _enough_ , Hawke.”

Marian’s bottom lip shook and she grimaced.  “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely.  She sat down heavily on the end of the bed and held her head in her hands.  “She blamed me for everything.  Everything was my responsibility.  Carver leaving for the Gallows.  B-Bethany getting killed.  Even Father dying, why couldn’t I heal him?  What was the point of magic, awful magic, if it couldn’t even save him? I’m sure she’d have blamed me for her own death, it she’d had enough time.”

“That isn’t true, vhenan,” Merrill said, sitting beside her.  “She told you how proud she was at the end.”

Marian shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was wet. “You didn’t know her like I did.”

Merrill bit her lip. “You’re right.  She was your mother, and I barely knew her.  And you had a father and a sister who I never met at all.  Your family is my family now, Marian and I—I just wish I could have known them.”  She sniffed and her voice turned high-pitched. “You had this whole family for so long and now they’re almost all gone.  But you still have Carver, you still have some family left, Marian.  Don’t let yourself lose him, too.”

“Oh,  _Merrill_ ,” Hawke said, and she took her wife’s hands. “I’ll…I’ll write to him.  I’ll think about writing to him, alright?”

Merrill sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose that’s progress, you ninny.”

“You two,” Isabela said, and they looked up at her sheepishly.  “Remind me never to get married.  Looks like it really kills the fun.”

“That’s why we keep  _you_  around,” Hawke said, attempting cockiness with her tear-streaked face.  “You bring the fun.”

“Lies,” Isabela said. “I only know one way to bring fun and neither of you has ever asked me to get naked, so I will continue to assume you aren’t after that.”

Merrill and Marian both blushed scarlet, and Merrill buried her face in Marian’s chest.  Marian laughed.  “Look what you’ve done to her now, Isabela.  She just might faint.”

Isabela felt a pang in her guts.  Right. As if she didn’t already know.  It probably wasn’t worth the pain to keep checking.  She decided she wouldn’t do it again.

 

VII. 9:42 Dragon

 

Finally, there it was. They had climbed for hours, the children on their backs, but now they stood at the gates of Weisshaupt Fortress. It took twenty minutes to convince the guards who they were, and another twenty while someone ran to get Hawke. And then, finally, they were ushered inside to an antecahmber and Marian was standing in front of them, looking stunned.

Merrill tried to control herself, but with her wife so close she couldn’t help but rush to her, cling to her, pull her face down to hers and kiss her right there in front of a dozen-odd Grey Wardens.  Isabela stood back, holding the twins’ hands.  “Auntie Isabela, you’re squeezing too hard,” Rufus said.  She apologized profusely and let go of both of them.

Marian pulled her face away from Merrill.  She seemed to be fighting back a goofy grin.  “Ma vhenan…” she said.

“ _Ma vhenan_ ,” Merrill repeated dreamily.

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?”  It was not a giddy, joyous question.  It was hard-edged.

“I—what?”

Marian’s face was stony and serious.  “Why did you come all the way out here?”

“To—“ Merrill started, “to be with you.  To put our family back together.”

“Our family?” Marian said, incredulous.  “You brought the children?”  She hadn’t noticed in Merrill’s rush to kiss her.  Anger seeped into her expression.  “You dragged our children—our elf-blooded children—through the Tevinter Imperium?”

“No!” Merrill cried.  “We were careful, we went north from Perendale. I would never—I would never let anything happen to them.”

Marian’s lips became a thin line.  “It’s not safe here, Merrill.  You should have just stayed in Kirkwall.”

Merrill’s face turned red. “Stayed—in Kirkwall?!  Fucking Kirkwall, with cannons from Starkhaven and Creators know where else raining from the sky all night and day?  You know why poor people live in Lowtown, Hawke? Because when the city gets attacked from the water, Lowtown’s the first to go.  Kirkwall’s no fucking place for children.”

“This place is?” Marian demanded.  Several of the Grey Wardens had made themselves scarce, but some were still there. Merrill and Marian were oblivious to them.  “This is a  _military fortress,_  Merrill!”

“Right!” Merrill cried. “Exactly!  Let’s see Sebastian knock these walls down, aye?”  She stared into Hawke’s face, and her eyes grew wet. “Don’t you want us here?  Don’t you want to be with your  _family?_ ”

“Not  _here_ ,” Marian said, pleading.  “Eventually I would have found somewhere for us all to live and sent for you.”

“Oh, and when would  _that_  be, O Mighty Champion?  A decade from now, leaving your children to grow up without you?”  She stepped aside and gestured at Sybil and Rufus.  “They don’t even remember you, Marian.  They’re growing up and you don’t know them.  Rufus is already doing magic.”

“Rufus?” Marian asked. She looked over at Isabela, behind whom both of the children were hiding.  “Oh, Maker.  Oh, shit.  Kids, come here please.”  She crouched down so she’d be eye level if they decided to come out from behind Isabela’s legs.

“Auntie Isabela,” Rufus whispered, “is that our Other Mummy?”

“That’s her,” Isabela said, ice in her voice.  She was glaring at Hawke, who had the good sense to look away in shame.

“Mummy was shouting at her,” Sybil said.

“Oh, Maker, no,” Marian said. “I’m so sorry Sybil.  Or…are you, Dahlia?”

Sybil pointed around the front of Isabela’s legs at Rufus.  “He’s Dahlia.”

"I'm not Dahlia," Rufus said, pouting, "I'm Rufus!"

"Rufus?" Marian asked again, glancing at Merrill briefly, before returning attention to her son.  "Of course you are.  Well chosen. Look, kids, I—I’m sorry.”

“They were looking forward to seeing you,” Merrill said, through clenched teeth.

Marian looked up at Isabela. “You came, too?”

“Well I wasn’t about to let them go without me,” she said.

“Of course not.”  Marian tilted her head slightly, letting a smile into one corner of her mouth.  “You always watch out for us.”

Isabela’s chest filled up with so much, anger and love and relief and longing and she just thought  _fuck it_.  She stepped towards Hawke and yanked her off the ground to pull her into a bracing hug.  She punched her back over and over and told her “You’re fucked up, you know that?”

“Believe me, I know.  Maker, I was already so scared for them, Isabela,” she said, voice muffled by Isabela’s coat.  “What if something happens to them, too?”

“At least now you can protect them yourself, Marian,” Isabela whispered.  She took a deep breath.  “Maker I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Marian broke off and turned to Merrill. The kids had migrated her legs, and were staring up at Marian, still unsure.  Marian stood back from them, giving her family space, lest her touch upset them.  Marian Hawke, the bronto in the emotional pottery shop.  “Ir abelas, emma lath.”

Merrill’s mouth pinched into a reluctant smile.  Seeing her vhenan reunite with Isabela had softened something, calmed something in her. “You had better be abelas, Marian Hawke.”  But she reached a hand out to her which Marian took and held her chest.

“I  _am_  glad you’re here,” she murmured.  “Thank you.”  She crouched again and looked at her children.  “And I’m sorry I shouted.  Let’s start again.  I’m your mother.”

“Mummy told us that,” Sybil said.  Her eyes were enormous, and as shockingly blue as Marian’s own.  “If Mummy’s Mummy, what do we call you?”

“Whatever you like,” Marian said.  She was stiff, unsure.

“Auntie Isabela calls you Hawke,” Rufus said.  “Can I call you that?”

Marian laughed.  “I would  _love it_  if you called me Hawke.”

“I’m going to call you Hawke!” Rufus shouted, jumping out from behind Merrill and holding up his hands like claws.

“I’m going to call you  _Mummy_  Hawke,” Sybil said, still hiding behind Merrill but grinning wide as her face.

“Can I ride on your back, Hawke?” Rufus asked.  He was still playing at being some sort of monster.

“Of course you can!” Marian said, and let him climb on.

“Can I ride on your feet?” Sybil asked, jumping in place once.

“Of  _course_  you can,” Marian told her, and she stood so the girl could step onto her feet.  “I’ll take you to my quarters, though I daresay I’ll need bigger ones now.”  She hobbled off awkwardly, a couple Wardens in tow. Those left in the antechamber picked up the travelers’ belongings and carried them off.  Merrill and Isabela were alone.

Merrill wrapped Isabela in her arms and hugged her tight.  “We made it,” she said into Isabela’s cleavage.

“We sure did, Kitten.” Isabela smiled down at her, relieved, but more than a little sad.  She would stay for a little while, she figured, then wander off, let them make what sort of normal they could.

“Isabela,” Merrill said, and she looked up at her.  “I want you to—This is your family, too.  You’re a part of us.  You’re one of us.  It took this whole awful trip for me to realize it, really.  But if you want to stay with us, I want that.  I imagine Marian does, too.  And…”  She pulled Isabela down by the collar.  “The three of us can talk about what that means after the children have gone to bed.”

Isabela was elated, flush-faced, and more than a little turned on.  “Don’t toy with me, Merrill.  Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying sex.  Is that what you thought I meant?”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Isabela.  “Yes, that’s what I thought.  Only last time I asked you two about it, you didn’t seem keen.”

“Oh, we were keen, trust me. We just got hung up on the right way and when to do it, all that.  But I’m a mother now, Isabela, I haven’t got time for subtle innuendos.”  She started to leave to room, Isabela behind her.  “Let’s see what this place has to offer.”


End file.
